


A First

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, McHanzo Week 2016, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 10:45:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8887882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: The first time they kiss, neither of them have thought it through.





	

**Author's Note:**

> MY NAME IS IZ AND WELCOME TO MY TRASH BIN.
> 
> Okay in all seriousness, here's one for the week folks. Don't know if I'll show up for any other days but I had to throw at least something into the void.
> 
> Enjoy the authentic cheese.

The first time they kiss, neither of them have thought it through.

 

Well, perhaps that’s not quite true. They have (both?) thought about it far more than they’d like to admit. That happens when you spend a lot of time in the company of someone you find both attractive and likable: ideas. No matter how bad they might be. So, yes, they have thought about it. But not seriously. Albeit for different reasons. 

 

For McCree, it’s not a serious idea because it’s a stupid one. One of the most stupid ones he’s ever lingered on, and McCree has made a plethora of stupid decisions. Hanzo Shimada is not a man you kiss, especially if you’re a washed up Blackwatch operative with ten dollars to your name. He’s the pauper in this tale, Hanzo the prince, and McCree has read enough stories to know how that situation pans out. The prince has better people to consider. McCree is best off keeping that in mind.  

 

And that’s not even getting into Hanzo’s issues, which are perhaps as fucked up as McCree’s. Which is impressive, because McCree’s issues include a father figure back from the dead and a body count that haunts his dreams to this day. Hanzo came to the Watchpoint living out of a bottle with a foot in the grave and while he’s made progress on that front it’s a fragile thing. For McCree to fuck it up with his romantic nonsense is to do the man a disservice. Hanzo needs a friend, not a love-struck cowboy. 

 

No, kissing Hanzo Shimada is not an option. Not unless he starts living in a fairytale. 

 

For Hanzo, kissing McCree is not a serious idea because it just not realistic. It’s a miracle the man has bothered to be his friend after what he’s done: he would be pushing his luck to try to move it anything farther. Hanzo is a bundle of regrets and mistakes, and if he’s worth redemption, it is only because Genji has decided to give him the option. To think himself worth McCree, a man who has saved dozens, devoted  his life to the common man? Folly. Like McCree, Hanzo has heard plenty of classic stories and tales. He knows what kind of person the outlaw hero gets. And it’s not the man with blood on his hands he can never wipe clean.

 

And that’s not even getting into McCree’s issues, which are impressive, even for Hanzo. The man has an inability to keep still, an insecurity of abandonment built into his psych after Deadlock and Overwatch. Commitment terrifies him, a reminder of all the times he’s been burned before. He’s not one for a tied down relationship, at least not with everything so fragile. And Hanzo has no right to consider such a thing.

 

So no, kissing Jesse McCree is not an option. Not unless he wants to risk everything.

 

That’s what they tell themselves, between every glance and quick smile. It’s not worth it. That doesn’t stop them from thinking about it though, in the quiet moments when no one is watching. When they share drinks on the top of the Watchpoint, mapping out stars and telling the stories behind them. When a bit of hand to hand combat gets a little too close and they end up a giggling mess on the floor. When they find themselves in the shooting ranges at odd hours in the morning, swapping stories to fend off nightmares.

 

They think about it. They think about it far too much.

 

(Does he even have a chance? McCree can’t believe he does but when Hanzo smiles at him as he points out a collection of stars they both have followed on their travels he can’t help but think-)

 

More than they should.

 

(Does he even have a chance? Hanzo doesn’t think it could be possible, but McCree’s hands linger on him a second too long as they crash to the floor in a sparring match and his eyes are on his lips-)

 

Much more than is healthy.

 

(Could they make it work? They want to think they could as they pour their drinks in the small Watchpoint kitchen at three in the morning and try to keep from pulling the other close to keep him from shaking-)

 

They never think of acting on it. At least, they try not to. And for a long time, that works. It works as well as it can. Until a mission gone wrong, and a shot narrowly missed, and two men inches from death escaping it by the skin of their teeth.

 

“Holy shit,” McCree says between gasps, looking down at the crumpled omnics that tried to corner them. His arm is sparking, and his left eye is starting to turn a nasty purple shade from a bruise. His hat is burnt around the brim. “Holy fucking shit.”

 

“Agreed.” Hanzo is out of breathe too, hands on his knees. He is out of arrows. There’s two nasty bullet grazes on his right arm, and they bleed sluggishly as well as a minor scrape on his left cheek. 

 

“I thought we were goners.”

“As did I.”

 

“Like honest to God goners. I was planning out my funeral and everything.”

 

Hanzo looks up at him, catching his breathe. “You don’t have such things planned in advance?” McCree just shakes his head.

 

“Bad luck. Figured a viking funeral would be cool, though. Added effect, you know?”

 

It’s a jest. That’s how McCree copes with unpleasant things: he jests. This time Hanzo is happy for it. He chuckles, and soon enough McCree is joining him, both of them laughing despite the wreckage around them. Both are red in the face. When Hanzo looks up, a grin is on his face. There’s a matching one on McCree’s.

 

Something changes in that moment. Later, they won’t be able to place what it is, the shift. McCree will guess adrenaline. Hanzo will say the same, more or less.

 

It’s neither. It’s more about realizing what you have to lose even when you’ve never had it. 

 

Both grins fade, uncertainty clouding their expressions. McCree puts his hand on Hanzo’s shoulder, thumb brushing against the skin. Leans in, but doesn’t close the gap. It’s a question. One they can laugh about later and pretend it was only adrenaline. 

 

They don’t. Instead, Hanzo grabs McCree’s serape. Drags him close for a kiss that will be sloppy, and desperate, and filled with months of tension.

 

It’s their first. They haven’t thought it through.

 

It’s not their last. 


End file.
